


wrap me up like a present and put me away

by clicheanna



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 'it is the thought that counts', AU, Alternate Universe - High School, Christmas, Christmas AU, Fluff, Humor ???, Is that a thing, It's a thing now, M/M, Overuse Of Parentheses, fa la la la la la la la la, that's also a thing, the world wants them together what else is new, there are mentions of a bunch of different characters i am not gonna write out, this is my christmas gift to ao3, this is really just fluff you're welcome, tis the season to be jolly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 09:43:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clicheanna/pseuds/clicheanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Christmas time and as Louis’ best friend, Harry needs to make sure he doesn’t feel lonely during the merriest part of the year. Maybe putting anonymous notes in his locker isn’t the best way, but, technicalities.</p><p> </p><p><em>He’s not going to do it. It’s ridiculous. Zayn is</em> wrong. <em>There is absolutely no reason for him to result to this.</em></p><p>
  <em>But Zayn’s stupid prick voice and idea has been stuck in his head. And it was like, three in the morning, and he couldn’t remember why it was a bad thing to just try.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And now he has 135 words written on the paper (he counted) and everything he forgot about in the middle of the night comes flooding back. Louis will find out. It’s inevitable. He will, and he’ll never want to speak to Harry again. He’ll think he’s a freak who puts notes in people’s lockers about their undying love for them. It’s not worth it to find out whether he thinks petty crushes are cute or not.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Harry clenches the paper around his fingers.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He’s not going to do it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Except he is.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	wrap me up like a present and put me away

**Author's Note:**

> I started working on this the first day of December, finished on the tenth, and this is actually the fastest I’ve ever finished something. Deadlines for Christmas, obviously. Usually it takes me months and even then I don’t seem to finish it (sorry). 
> 
> This is a combination of two ideas I’ve had, one being ‘Christmas AU friends-to-lovers’ and that’s as far as I got, and the other being ‘High school AU, Harry has a crush, and sends him notes in lockers.’ I had a plot line for that one but it’s almost Christmas so why not add in the cold, decorations, and the need for someone to kiss under the mistletoe?
> 
> The cold and mistletoe are only mentioned like once though but whatever. 
> 
> Title credit goes to ‘Fool’s Holiday’ by All Time Low, and I think I’m gonna try and see if they have lyrics I could use as a title for any story idea I have wish me luck.
> 
> (This might get edited a bit more later on so if you ever see differences in something just know I changed it.)
> 
> *Edit* apparently something was wrong with the formatting in one of the paragraphs, but it's fixed now :)

 

“Mate, you’re staring.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

Harry sighs and pushes off of the granite counter he’s leaning over–disrupting his perfect view of brown feathered hair, sparkling blue eyes, and gorgeous laugh lines (not that he’d saying any of those things out loud)–turning to face the annoying prick that is his friend Zayn.

“Shut up,” he spits out, but even that kid in their year that’s been held back three times could tell there’s no malice behind it.

Zayn holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, I just don’t want you to get caught.”

Harry scowls. “Don’t you have something you should be doing?”

The raven haired lad glances at his wrist, which, of course, has no watch on it. “Nah, but your break’s almost over.”

Harry rolls his eyes, but gives his friend the pleasure of playing along. “My break’s been over for a while now, Zayn.”

His eyes widen and he looks around the nearly empty shop, sans the two boys talking and eating cookies in the corner. “ _Really_? I just assumed since no one’s come in but Louis and Niall that–”

Harry doesn’t hear the end of it and chooses instead to walk away into the kitchen in the backroom. Zayn follows, but there’s nothing he can really do to stop that.

Liam’s also in there, putting a new batch of cupcakes to later be frosted with a Christmas tree design in the oven. He greets Zayn and Harry with a half wave once the oven has been closed before running off to man the register. Harry takes his place, setting a timer for when the cupcakes should be done, and getting out one of the bowls from the cupboard to start a birthday cake requested by a customer. Zayn hops up on the counter beside him.

Harry looks at him from the corner of his eye after the flour has been poured. “You know I can kick you out, right?”

Zayn shrugs. “But you won’t.” He leans over to inspect the batter in the bowl. “Ooh, are you making a cake? Is it for Louis? Are you gonna ice it with _‘Dear Louis, can you please fuck me–?’_ ”

Harry whacks Zayn on the head with the whisk he just got out. “OW! Dude!” His hands come up to rub the spot of the attack.

“ _No_ , it’s not for Louis,” Harry replies, gritting his teeth.

“Well, it should be,” Zayn tells him. “Just saying, I don’t see how it could possibly _lower_ your chances.”

Harry stops stirring the batter, resting the mixer against the bowl. He turns to face Zayn again with his right arm on the table. “Who said I wanted a chance?”

Zayn just stares blankly at him.

Harry groans. “Okay, fine, maybe I want a chance. I’m not gonna make a _bloody cake_ for him.” He goes back to mixing, trying unsuccessfully to block his friend’s (who he’s not entirely sure _why_ he is friends with) voice out.

“Then what are you going to do?”

Harry should probably just give up making this cake right now. “What?”

“ _I said,_ what are you gonna do?” Zayn repeats. “You can’t just sit there and not ask him out or something.”

“Oh, I’m pretty damn sure I can.” He picks up the bowl to continue his job somewhere else, but a hand on his shoulder stops him.

“He’d say yes, you know.”

Harry narrows his eyes. “Uh huh, and I’m the Queen of England.” He tries to shake the hand off but Zayn’s grip stays firm.

“No really mate, I can tell. He _likes_ you. And even if I’m wrong, I just don’t see why he wouldn’t.”

“Maybe because he could have anyone he wants?” Harry says sarcastically. “He could literally have the whole school at his feet if he wanted to, so, I don’t know, it’s just a thought.”

“What if he wants you?”

Harry shakes his head, attempting to move Zayn’s hand off his shoulder and this time he relents. “But he doesn’t.”

Zayn hops off the counter, following after Harry around the kitchen while he searches for a clean cake pan. “And how do you know that?”

Harry huffs and puts the bowl of batter on the nearest flat surface. “Look,” he starts, “he’s my best friend. Even if he did have feelings about me–hypothetically speaking–what if it doesn’t work out? I lose one of the best people I’ve ever known because we wanted to add a few benefits on our friendship. _And,_ there’s also you guys. It would all end with you picking sides on who to stay close friends with because we’d be doomed to never hang out in the same place at the same time ever again. And then we’d all get into fights and avoid each other looks in the hallway and our dreams of becoming a band and moving to London and making it big in America or Japan or anywhere that’s not England are shattered. I’d end up on the streets with a guitar and playing songs, only making a few pence a day. It’d be like a divorce, Zayn. Not a normal break up.” He’s a bit breathless after saying all that incredibly fast, but whatever. Those are the acceptable reasons why he will never make a move on Louis. Except if he said that part out loud Zayn would probably reply with some shit about _‘never saying never’_ and burst into a Justin Bieber rendition, so. He really can’t win.

“So, what you’re saying is, by dating Louis you’d end up homeless?” The ‘homeless’ had a very judging tone to it. Wanker.

Harry shrugs. “Chain reactions. Sometimes they make no sense. Point is, I’m not going to purposely engage my own downfall.” He’s found a pan now. Good. Distractions are always welcome.

“So if _Louis_ asked you out…”

The sentence nearly had Harry spilling the batter everywhere from where he was pouring it into the pan. “This conversation’s over.”

“Whoa, hold on, I still have questions–” He’s cut off by the _beep beep beep_ of the timer.

The curly haired boy smiled victoriously at his frowning friend. “Cupcakes are done.”

Zayn, because he can sometimes be distinctly less annoying than per usual, lets the subject drop while Harry gets the cupcakes out of the oven to cool and puts the cake in its place.

Ok, so _maybe_ Harry’s had a crush on his best friend since forever, and _maybe_ by this time he’s in love with him, but it doesn’t mean he has to _do_ anything about it. He’s fine having Louis just as a friend. Zayn can go drown in a puddle of his own desperate tears to get Harry to act on his feelings, or something.

And so what if it feels like a marching band stomped over his heart when he sees Louis flirting with a girl (or even a guy) at school or at the parties him and Niall drag the rest of them to, or when he tells Harry _‘You’re the best friend I could ever have, you know that right?’_ and _‘As your friend, it’s my responsibility to be the best wingman you could ever ask for, so, who’s the lucky lady you fancy?’_ like the universe is laughing at his misery of the term ‘friend’ and Louis’ utmost cluelessness?  Zayn didn’t need to know that.

Because, come on, who wouldn’t be even the tiniest bit in love with Louis? He’s like a really pretty sun that tells amazing jokes with an equally fantastic ass.

(Whatever, Harry sucks at metaphors. That’s why he has a D in English, because that was actually a simile.)

He’s distracted from starting a batch of sugar cookies by a voice yelling through the store.

“Haz! Is you’re shift over, yet?”

“Ha!” Zayn, who should probably not be allowed in the back anymore, exclaims, pointing a finger at Harry. “Speak of the devil.”

He grunts, leaning on a counter with his chin in his hand, but instantly smiles when Louis walks into the kitchen and stands in front of him. “No, I’ve still got a half hour. Why?”

Louis sighs. “I need someone to talk to.”

Harry can vaguely make out Zayn to the right of him stifling his laughter with his hand and tries to glare at him without Louis noticing. “What’s up?”

Louis’ eyes grow sad and any thoughts about Zayn vanish. He slumps his head on the table. “Lottie called. Mum and Dad are fighting again, so I have to leave soon.” He chokes a bit on his words. “It’s just… the girls are so young, and it’s almost Christmas, but their parents won’t even speak to each other properly. Who deserves that?” His voice sounds so desperate and void of happiness that Harry might want to cuddle him up in blankets and bring him hot chocolate for the rest of the day and just snog his face off until he doesn’t have a single worry in mind.

_Might._

Zayn thankfully stops finding any humor in the situation and goes into actual friend mode. “How are they handling it?”

Louis lifts his head up to peer at Zayn. “I think the twins would be a lot worse off if they weren’t so easy to convince everything’s alright.” He smiles, maybe at fondness for his sisters, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Fizz and Lottie, though, I’m pretty sure they know what’s coming. They’re a bit depressed.” It’s then Harry notices how red his face is and how he keeps swallowing, and he doesn’t hesitate to spread his arms for a hug.

Louis seems to consider his invitation but shakes his head. “You’ve got flour all over you, Haz,” he shakily protests. The stubborn dick.

“So?” Harry presses. Louis scoffs but steps into the embrace anyway. Harry can see Zayn making a gagging gesture, but when his best friend/person-he’s-secretly-not-so-secretly-in-love-with is close to tears, nothing really matters.

Louis’ mum and stepdad have been getting into serious arguments for the better part of the year. Harry has to feel bad for him, not just because there will most definitely be an imminent split soon, but Louis also has to push away all of his feelings about the situation himself in order to keep his sisters calm. If Harry could convince him of anything, he’d tell him his emotions were just as important as everyone else’s, but sadly, the only thing you could convince Louis of was whether or not he should drink on a Sunday night.

So Harry’s the shoulder he cries on after he’s bottled up to the limit, and sometimes Harry wishes he could make him feel better in a lot different way, but that’s not what _friends_ do. Friends pat you on the back and give you a variety of advice ranging from _‘get therapy’_ to _‘suck it up, bitch.’_

(And Harry would tell himself the latter if he could. It might work. Then again, probably not.)

“Everything’s so stressful right now, too,” Louis sniffs into Harry’s ( _Harry’s!)_ apron. “I still need to get everyone’s Christmas gifts, and I’ve not got nearly enough money for that, and the last football game for the season is next week and it’s like everyone’s sick with the flu, and Eleanor wants me to go to that dance before winter holiday to help with her student body campaign, but I’m sure as hell not going to another dance without a date and I’m not asking any random taker, either–” Harry hears Zayn let out an almost imperceptible snort and he flips him off over Louis’ shoulder “–and I just don’t know what to do.”

“It’s okay, Lou,” Harry whispers into his neck, without really thinking about what he’s saying and that’s where the problem comes in. He rubs a soothing hand up and down Louis’ back. “You’ll get through it, it’ll be fine. And it has to be hard for your parents, too. They’ve been together for a while.”

He feels Louis nod against his chest. “I just wish it wasn’t happening,” he whispers. He detaches from Harry (and Harry won’t admit everything feels cold) and stands up straight, taking his phone out of his pocket to check the time. “I have to go now,” he says, wiping away the wetness in his eyes he didn’t let out. “Daisy and Phoebe might worry.” He gives Harry another hug with a _‘Thanks for listening, you’re the best, Harry’_ before swiftly leaving the kitchen and the bakery and Harry’s presence and wow, another metaphor/simile/analogy.

“God, you’re so whipped,” Zayn mocks, startling Harry out of his reverie of staring at the entrance, or exit, in Louis’ case.

(He feels kind of pathetic for even thinking of it like that.)

“Can you leave?” Harry asks, annoyed, instead of actually replying to Zayn’s comment. 

“No, I cannot,” Zayn grins. Harry sighs and gives up, but makes a mental note that he really, _really_ should never let him back in a hundred meter radius of the bakery. There could be a sign on the front of the shop, too, like with dogs, except a silhouette of Zayn’s quiff.

“Harry,” Zayn says abruptly, gaining his attention again. He had a face splitting smile on his face and mischief in his eyes. Harry’s scared. “I’ve just had an epiphany.”

Harry just looks at him. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m serious. Louis needs someone; someone who will tell him how amazing he is for putting everyone else’s needs above his own and that they love him with every fiber of their being and all that sappy shit. And you can be that person, except you won’t because you’re a dumbass.”

“Aw, thanks, Zayn,” Harry snarls, “because that’s a wonderful realization–”

“I’m not finished, shut up.” Harry crosses his arms, but stays silent. “Remember how Josh would stick those love notes in Maria’s binder when she would go to the loo in homeroom? But she never found out who was writing them and she rattled to her friends about how romantic and sweet it was?”

Harry nods. “Where are you going with–?”

“Shh!” Zayn hisses. “My point is, if you’re too much of a wuss to tell Louis how you feel without the fear of being rejected, then just don’t let him find out it’s _your_ feelings–major emphasis on the ‘ _your_ ,’ by the way.”

It takes Harry a minute to catch on to what Zayn is telling him, but when he does his eyes nearly bulge out of his head. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no.  I’m gonna admit, I’ve done some pretty stupid things in the past, but I will _not_ , under any circumstances, write him anonymous _love notes_.” It doesn’t feel like he can shake his head enough times.

“But _why_ _not?_ ” Zayn whines. “It’s a perfect idea! You can get some weight off your chest, Louis will most likely start feeling loved again, even if he knows we all adore him, and there is a very good chance he’ll tell us– and more importantly _you_ – about it, and you’ll know whether he thinks it’s creepy or flattering. And who knows? Maybe you can tell him you wrote it if he likes them and you two can have hot, passionate sex and ride off into the sunset together. It’s a win-win situation here!”

Harry snorts, because that’s not going to happen, and Zayn knows it, doesn’t he? “Didn’t Chris end up telling Maria _he_ was the one who was writing the notes and they snogged in the hallway?”

Zayn’s eyebrows scrunched together like he was actually considering this. One-nil. “Well, that’s not gonna happen twice…”

“Sure it won’t,” Harry laughs dryly. “If this was a movie, we’d montage to the scene where the pretty, popular girl tells Louis she’s been writing the notes, asks him to the dance, they end up in a happy relationship for two weeks, and cue us coming up with another idea. And that’s just if I agreed to the notes thing in the first place.”

“But this isn’t a movie,” Zayn says smugly. He may have a point, but he does not get a point on Harry’s scoreboard. Only Harry gets points on Harry’s scoreboard.

Two-nil, to prove a point.

“I’m not doing it. End of discussion.”

“Fine,” Zayn gives in, “suit yourself. Live your life without ever knowing if you had a chance. The rest of us will just be here in your black hole of misery.”

“Cool.” He goes back to making the sugar cookies.

“I–” He’s cut off once again by Niall and Liam barging into the kitchen, demanding to be included in a conversation.

Three-nil.

 

**◊◊◊◊**

 

Zayn may have a point on the scoreboard now.

Harry stares at the greyish-blue locker in front of him and the folded up notebook paper in his hand.

He’s not going to do it. It’s ridiculous. Zayn is _wrong._ There is absolutely no reason for him to result to this.

But Zayn’s stupid prick voice and idea has been stuck in his head. And it was like, three in the morning, and he couldn’t remember why it was a bad thing to just _try._

And now he has 135 words written on the paper (he counted) and everything he forgot about in the middle of the night comes flooding back. Louis will find out. It’s inevitable. He will, and he’ll never want to speak to Harry again. He’ll think he’s a freak who puts notes in people’s lockers about their undying love for them. It’s not worth it to find out whether he thinks petty crushes are cute or not.

Harry clenches the paper around his fingers.

He’s not going to do it.

Except he is.

Before he can regret that voice in the back of his head that suddenly spoke up loud enough to be heard over his reasonable conscience, he slips the paper into the slits on the locker, and hears it land onto a book. He takes a deep breath.

Shit.

 

 

He was sitting at their lunch table with Zayn, Liam, and Niall, eating the sandwich he packed the night before, when Louis slams his lunch tray down and settles beside him.

Louis and Niall have long sense stopped eating with their football buddies and cheerleaders, and Harry is usually grateful for that, it makes him feel more important somehow, but once in a blue moon it’s unwelcome. And one of those times would be right now when he starts talking.

“I found something interesting today,” he announces, and Harry instantly freezes.

“Oh?” Liam inquires. “What is it?"

“This note in my locker,” Louis informs. He pulls out a piece of folded paper from his pocket.

Harry sees the moment Zayn’s expression turns from curious, to baffled, to amused. He wants to hide behind Niall’s huge lunch box.

“ _Really?_ ” he asks incredulously and bursts into uncontrolled laughter, banging his hands on the table. Harry inconspicuously glares at him.

Louis narrows his eyes suspiciously. “What’s so funny?”

“Mate!” Zayn yells. “I thought– _oh my God,_ this is the best thing ever!” He continues cackling and amidst the confusion, Louis looks slightly hurt. Why, Harry doesn’t know, but he wishes Zayn would stop, if not for his own dignity.

“I’m gonna… sit with Pez,” he finally tells them between seemingly never-ending fits of laughter and takes his lunch to move two tables down with the blonde-haired girl.

Niall opens up a crisp bag. “What was that all about?”

Harry continues to eat his sandwich.

“I don’t know.” Louis shakes his head. “Anyway, like, I’m pretty sure it’s from one of those caring-type people who will leave random messages wherever they go in hopes of brightening up someone’s day, and one of those places just so happened to be my locker, but it’s still really nice, like they actually _knew_ about all the shit I’ve been going through. Here, read it.” He passes the note to Harry who’s closest to him. He, as calmly as he can, puts down the sandwich and opens the note up, pretending to closely read his own cursive writing (so Louis won’t recognize it; he hasn’t written in cursive, besides the occasional signature, since he was eleven).

_Hi. So this may seem really strange, but after a suggestion from my friend I decided to write this. So, here it goes._

_Any problems you’ve been having, don’t worry about them! You’ll get through it. Everyone does! You just have to get over those hurdles and you’ll get the gold. Was that a crappy metaphor? It probably was. I’m sorry about that. Anyway, you’re an incredible person. Don’t ever forget that! Don’t ever feel sorry for yourself or believe you’re not good enough! Take some time for yourself; it might clear your head a bit. The world isn’t riding on your shoulders, have a break once in a while! It’ll make you feel loads better. And don’t forget: there’s people who love and care about you. Hope this helps and have a nice day!_

He had made it vague, in case the only people Louis told about his family problems were the four of them, which they probably were. He can see where Louis’ coming from when he said it was just a random message, because it would take a very long train of thought to understand why he wrote some of the things he did in that message. He breathes a little bit easier.

“Well, that’s… interesting. And caring,” he quickly adds in fear of sounding monotone.

“I know!” Louis agrees.

“Let me see it.” Niall reaches over the table to grab the paper from Harry’s hands. The top of it rips a little. He chuckles. “Someone seems to have a lot of time on their hands.”

Harry almost throws his water bottle at him.

Liam takes the paper from Niall. “Do you think other people got this?”

The words _‘no, you dick’_ are on the tip of Harry’s tongue.

Louis shrugs. “Possibly. But I wanna thank them, whoever wrote it. As stupid as it sounds, I think I’m just gonna take a day for myself. No sister, no football, no dances. Do you guys want to come over tomorrow? We can get pizza and go bowling or something.”

Harry very nearly chokes on his food.

Hewants to _thank_ the person who wrote it? Enough to actually _listen_ to them?

Harry’s insides do a little cheer and dance and their might be a scream somewhere in there.

 

When Harry sees Zayn again at the bakery after school, he laughs in his face.

“Dude,” he gasps out, “you actually _did_ it.”

Niall and Louis had football practice after school and Liam’s family are all going out to a party later that night, so fortunately or unfortunately–depending on how you look at it–they were alone in the shop.

Harry really needs to establish the “No Zayn” rule. He doesn’t even work here.

“What did it say?” he continues, breathless. “’ _I have loved you since I first laid eyes on your magnificent beauty on the dreaded first day of secondary school_ –‘”

“Maybe if you had stayed,” Harry interrupts, “you’d know what it said.”

“Nah, mate, Lou showed me in fifth period. I’m just taking the piss out of ya.”

Harry’s fingers itch to slap him. “Okay, fine,” he sighs, “I did it. Like you said, I couldn’t help him in person without spilling my guts. I’m weak and powerless to the evils of Louis Tomlinson. But seriously, there’s a filter when I’m writing.”

“So you’re saying I was right?” Dammit.

“I didn’t say that. It’s not like I’m gonna continue doing it.” He wants to work on some pastries now. Maybe Zayn would stop bothering him. The bakery is the source of Harry’s income, even if the owner is almost never around and they can slack off as much as they want, just not to the point to get customer complaints. Zayn can’t possibly deny him the focus to work.

“Sure, Harry. If something worked once, you’ll do it again. It’s human nature.”

“It only worked because he thought someone was just being nice to random people. I’m not doing it again, Zayn. Forget it.”

 

**◊◊◊◊**

 

He does it again.

It’s not really _his_ fault when you think about it. You’re three-in-the-morning conscience is so much different than your normal one. They’re not even comparable.

It’s not Harry’s fault.

He was just thinking: everything he said in the first note would have been perfectly acceptable for a friend to say out loud. Why would he go through hell for _that_?

So he gets another piece of paper on Sunday night, the day after their bowling and pizza party, and writes a significantly shorter note in the same swoopy cursive, with a couple of things someone slightly more confident than him would have to ability to say. He doesn’t want to push it.

_Hi. I hope you got my last note and that I didn’t come across as creepy. Sorry if I did, that wasn’t my intention. My intention was to make you happy. You look better when you smile._

If he _was_ pushing it, he would have a five-page letter explaining how Louis’ smile could _‘light up this whole town’_ , or make every Jedi come to the Dark Side, or cause unicorns to exist that fly off on miniature rainbows. Instead, the line could easily be interpreted as an _‘everyone looks better when they smile’_ thing, and still gives the impression the previous note wasn’t for anyone particular, even if that impression is dimmed a bit.

On Monday morning, he doesn’t hesitate to slide the paper in Louis’ locker. There’s no going back now.

 

 

Later that morning, because schools still have some weird mindset that lunch should be served before noon, Louis sits down at the cafeteria table in much the same way as on Friday.

“There was another one,” he declares. Harry focuses on the Christmas lights hung up around the cafeteria.

“Another what?” Niall asks.

“A note.” Louis pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket again.

Zayn promptly bursts into laughter and leaves to sit with Perrie without another word.

“Why does he keep laughing?” Liam wonders, looking at the spot Zayn was just in.

“I have no fucking idea,” Louis says and glances over to the seat Zayn is in with a fury in his eyes that states he might want to kill him, which isn’t very good. Harry will have to talk about Zayn spontaneously leaving, because he’s obviously going to come into the bakery again today.

Harry keeps quiet. It’s the best way to stray the attention from him and his very easily picked up false sense of mild curiosity/nonchalance.

Louis passes the note to him first anyway, and if he was an outsider to this moment he would be able to understand the symbolism, but he isn’t and the world groans loudly at Harry who seems to be the densest person on their planet and who is pretending to read his own goddamn note. They need to fix something.

“Well–err, um…” Harry stutters, trying to come up with the right to say. He goes with the question to get his answers. “Do you think it’s still just a random note? It seems a bit personal now.”

“I don’t know,” Louis replies. “I’m gonna say it probably was and the person just felt a tad stalker–ish. If I get one tomorrow that might be deal breaker.”

Well then.

(Niall steals the note from him before he can deliberate any longer.)

 

 

As expected, Zayn follows Harry to the bakery.

“I _told you_ you’d do it again!” he shouts; delight clear in his voice while they walk in the freezing cold temperatures to the shop.

“You still don’t get a point,” Harry mumbles, too lowly for Zayn to hear. This is his life.

“Is this gonna be a _thing_ now? Are you just gonna write him notes from now on until he figures out it was you doing it?”

“He’s not going to figure out,” Harry says matter-of-factly. He would do anything in his power for that to _remain_ a fact.

“Alright, whatever you say. But are you?”

Honestly, Harry hadn’t really thought about it. It was only two notes; he could stop right now if he wanted to. Louis even said if they stopped now it means it was someone being nice, not someone being a creep. Maybe not in those words, obviously, but it was clear as day, at least to Harry.

But then again, he wouldn’t ever say what he needed to if he did stop now. Sure, Louis wouldn’t know who said it, but it would help in the long run. With the knowledge his feelings for Louis were secure in his brain in some way, he could possibly be in the same room with the guy again without _‘staring at him like he hung the stars or created pizza and shit.’_ Zayn’s words, not his.

He was torn between the dumb-but-kind of-good thing to do and the easy thing to do. And he only has tomorrow and possibly the day after that to make the decision, because Louis has set the deadline, whether he knows he’s causing Harry a huge mental trauma or not, in more ways than one.

So, Harry’s honest with him. “I don’t know. I have an easy way out right now, but I also didn’t really accomplish anything, if that makes sense? So, like, don’t be surprised if there’s another note tomorrow. And don’t start cracking up either; I think Louis’ really pissed at you for that.”

Zayn’s lips turn up in a smile. “Yeah, I kind of figured that out. He said like, five words to me the whole time after lunch.”

Harry nudges his shoulder. “So this stays between us, and you have no reason to laugh when Louis brings it up, correct?”

Zayn plays along. “Brings what up?”

“Good.”

Harry puts up the Christmas decorations he meant to put up about two weeks ago in the shop. It’s like life has a new meaning, now that he has a chance to get Louis’ attention.

(The world wants to slap him upside the head.)

 

 

Harry decides that night, luckily at eleven, that he can send one more note, so Louis would know it’s specifically for him. Whether he continues after that would be a matter of his reaction. Hopefully he doesn’t realize the person sending it knows about his family problems and also wants to get in his pants. Not that Harry’s going to write that.

He also decides that the ‘ _Hi’_ at the beginning of each note will be his trademark, instead of a signature. It would make it harder to figure out who it is.

He finds a piece of paper from one of his school notebooks (because apparently he only has two pieces of lined paper at his house) and starts writing.

_Hi. So I’m going to clear things up and say the last two notes were meant for YOU. You probably didn’t realize that, but yeah. They were. And this one is, too. I kind of wanted to really talk to you without sounding like a git. But it’s almost the New Year and that’s time for resolutions, yeah?_

Harry looks over the note at least three times before folding the paper and placing it one of the pockets of his book bag.

This is probably the most ridiculous situation he’s ever been in. He wants it to be worth it, in the end. He doesn’t really believe it will.

But, then again, he also doesn’t think much of it when everywhere around Louis’ locker is vacant in the usually crowded hallways when he’s a few minutes later to school the next day than normal.

(It’s safe to say the world is repeatedly banging it’s head on the wall.)

 

**◊◊◊◊**

This time at lunch, Louis sits down, takes a paper out of his pocket and hands it to Harry without preamble. He seems confused, Harry expected that, but he just wants to know whether he’s glad or angry.

Louis doesn’t say anything though, so he opens the note and once again pretends to read it.

(Thankfully, Zayn’s not laughing.)

“Well, that’s um…” He should probably come up with appropriate reaction’s the night before.

Almost like routine now, Niall steals the note from Harry. “Dude, you’ve got like some secret admirer.”

The note is passed down to Liam and his eyes widen significantly. Harry tries to look semi interested. “Wow,” he says.

Zayn takes it from Liam. His lips turn up while he’s reading but it’s gone before anyone except Harry can notice. “That’s like, proper romantic, mate.”

He’ll have to thank Zayn later. Maybe.

Louis sighs. “Yeah, I guess it is,” he agrees. He says it like it’s something he doesn’t want to admit, and now Harry’s the one confused.

“Isn’t that good?” he blurts out before he can stop himself. “Someone liking you?”

There are four pairs of eyes on him now, but he’s only focusing on Louis.

Louis blinks. “Yeah, it should be,” he says, almost disappointed. He turns back to his food he just got out of his lunch box. “You know, I’m not really hungry.” He puts his food back inside his book bag and leaves the cafeteria without another word.

Harry stares blankly at their lunch table. “What did I say?”

Zayn snorts, Liam groans, and Niall mutters something that sounds suspiciously like _‘dumbasses’_ under his breath, and Harry’s pretty sure there’s a hidden meaning or inside joke somewhere that he didn’t get.  His friends are jerks.

 

**◊◊◊◊**

 

So it goes on like that for the rest of the week. Since it seemed more like Harry’s fault than his mystery persona in the letters for the reason that Louis got upset, he continues writing the notes, each one getting more flirty and sappy every day. Things like _‘your laugh is the most beautiful sound to exist’_ and _‘your eyes are blue like oceans, like I could swim in them’_ are put down and sent on a one way trip to Louis’ locker. On a particularly courageous day, he says, _‘your ass looked amazing in those jeans; can you wear them more often?’_

Harry also has a suspicion that Zayn told Liam and Niall he was the one writing them, judging by the way they’ll start snickering and casting glances at Harry whenever Louis mentions he got another note. He trusts them not to tell Louis, yeah, but it’s not something he’d like well-known either.

Louis’ stopped handing the notes to the four of them, probably after one of the bit inappropriate comments were first made, and just tells them ‘ _Oh, hey, I got another note today. Have any clue who it is?’_ and that’s that.

And while that’s all fine and dandy, the most frustrating thing about it though is Louis seems flattered he’s getting them, but almost like he doesn’t _want_ to be, like he’s going through some inner turmoil Harry will never understand. He isn’t really sure what to do at this point, or what will make Louis completely happy.

He even asked Zayn about it, but he looked at him like was the stupidest person on Earth (he might actually be, Harry will proclaim that now) and just waited for him to catch on. Harry obviously didn’t and he just sighed and walked away.

Basically, he has a few clues to unravel what Louis and the rest of the guys are thinking but won’t tell him that make absolutely no sense whatsoever when put altogether. That’s probably just from his point of view, but still. So he just continues to write the messages in hopes of a few things getting considerably less fuzzy, but so far nothing important has been brought up. And he can’t figure out anything to ask Louis either to get a few answers without looking like a very good suspect as to who’s writing the notes in the first place.

Even worse, he can barely talk to Louis in _general_ now without the fear of him suddenly reading something in his expression or voice or whatever that Harry’s the one writing him those stupid notes. It’s nerve-racking to even be in the same room with him anymore when Harry knows he’s looked at his newest compliments of the day.

All in all, Harry’s not really sure whether the notes have helped or hurt their relationship, despite the ‘win-win situation’ Zayn promised. He guesses neither of them expected Louis’ reaction–even if Zayn understands it somehow–or that Harry would get _more_ awkward around Louis, which considering they’re best friends, shouldn’t be possible. 

On Friday of that week, the final day of school before winter break, they all decide to do Secret Santa. They meet at the bakery the following day during the last hour of Harry and Liam’s shifts to draw the names  and they’ll have the whole next week, up until Christmas Eve/Louis’ Birthday, to buy the presents. It helps for Louis, too, when they agree that these will be their gifts for each other to help save money for presents for their families.

Louis takes off his beanie while Niall rips up some paper into five strips and writes each of their names on it. He folds the strips up and dumps them in the hat while Liam takes it and passes it around to everyone.

Harry’s the second person to go, and because the universe undoubtedly hates him, he gets Louis.

He manages to keep a calm exterior but inside he kind of wants to shred the paper and crunch its pieces into the ground. He also kind of wants to kiss the piece a thousand times.

He thinks that’s a metaphor for something.

Love is confusing, pretty much.

The next day he goes out and buys a _Grease_ box set and karaoke CD, because why the hell not? That kind of gift can’t possible show his feelings, can it?

He also buys a funny Christmas card that practically screams _‘Louis!!!’_ and some wrapping paper that has “wanker” on it.

(Friendship not crushes, basically.)

Since school ended, Harry’s found it hard to send Louis any notes. He only gave him two in the next week; once when Louis and Niall invited them all to a Christmas party with a good majority of the school and he stuck it under Louis’ beer while he was in the loo, and the other at the blonde and brunette’s last football game of the season and he snuck into the locker room during a boring portion of the game and put it in his duffle. They probably helped Louis narrow down who could possibly be writing them, but not by much.

(The last note might have said something like, _‘you notice everything on the field, why can’t you notice me?’_ but only he and Louis would know.)

In a whirlwind of snow, last minute Christmas shopping, and inflatable Santa Clauses, it’s suddenly Christmas Eve and Louis’ birthday and Harry has made a two layer cake for him (shut up Zayn) with a “19” candle and a bunch of football designs that the five of them will eat at the bakery after Secret Santa presents.

They’ve all got their gifts on a table in the back by the window, each with a tag on it that says one of their names. (Harry wrote Louis’ in cursive, so he wouldn’t know it was Harry, even though he’d probably find out when he read the card: _‘Merry Christmas, Lou, and happy birthday! It’s your very best friend, which is…? P.S. if you don’t guess right I’ll be very upset.’_ Zayn and Niall would have said _‘I’ll rip your arms off’_ and Liam would have said something else entirely, so.)

Liam, Niall, Zayn, and Harry have called Jay to let her know to get Louis to come out of the bakery for at least five minutes so they could get his surprise cake out of the freezer and eighteen candles put on, plus the big one, without Louis suddenly barging in like he’s very prone to. So when Jay texts Louis saying she needs a bit of help on the dinner for tonight, they all hide their smirks behind their hands.

When Louis’ left with a promise to be back in _‘ten minutes, tops,’_ they scramble to get the chocolate cake out and prepared for lighting and eating. Harry and Liam place it on the table with their gifts and sigh in relief that Louis’ not back yet.

Niall’s inspecting all the presents to make sure no one’s looks any better than his gift when he suddenly says, “Harry? Are you Louis’ Secret Santa?”

Harry stops fixing the cake to perfection to glance at Niall. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“The tag, it’s the same writing you use on your notes,” he tells him, like a warning.

The whole room seems to freeze and there’s a few seconds of silence before a very loud “Shit!” and Zayn has doubled over in laughter while Harry and Liam rushed over to Louis’ present. It’s all very loud.

“I’m such an idiot!”

“This is–,” breath, “–really hilarious!”  

“Can you rewrite his name?” Niall frantically asks, lifting the gift up to peer at the tag.

“There’s no room!”

“Can’t you just cross it off then and say it’s for him?”

“Do we even have a pen?!”

“What kind of store doesn’t have a pen?!”

“ _This_ store!” Harry puts his head in his hands. “Don’t _ever_ let Zayn tell me something’s a good idea again,” he mumbles.

“Never said you had to listen to me!”

“Shut up!”

“Ok, let’s just breathe,” Liam reasons. “Will he recognize just his name written down?”

Harry lifts his head back up. “I’ve written his name down more times than I can count.”

“Ok,” Liam says slowly. “Can we take the tag off?”

“If we can, it’ll rip the wrapping paper and what if he asks why there’s a rip?”

“Damn,” Niall comments.

“Louis’ gonna be back any minute! I’m screwed!” Harry shouts, taking the wrapped present from Niall’s hands.

“Harry,” Liam starts, “even though I think this is a very good sign you should just tell him, as your friend, we will not let Louis find out about this.” Harry breathes out and nods. “We’ll find a pen, cross out his name and if he asks, say you accidentally spelt it wrong.”

“Spelled what wrong?”

Harry may or may not shriek and hide the gift behind his back.

Louis’ standing in the doorway, hair windswept with a few white flurries on top and cheeks flushed, and he looks absolutely beautiful, but he’s come at the worst possible moment.

Zayn gives another bark of laughter before disappearing into the backroom. Good riddance.

Harry panics, so he says, “Bah humbug.”

Everyone’s eyes are on him and he can almost _feel_ their questioning gazes. “What?” Louis asks.

Harry’s face is red, he knows it is, but he keeps going. “Bah humbug. That’s a bit hard to spell, isn’t it? Like is it _ba_ like what sheep say, or maybe with an extra ‘A’ after that, and humbug could be two ‘M’s and two ‘G’s for all we know.”

Niall seems to catch on and he promptly bursts into chuckles and snorts and leaves to go join Zayn in the kitchen.

Then there were three.

Louis raises an eyebrow, but there’s a grin on his lips that makes Harry relax a bit. “And why do you want to spell that, love?”

The endearment makes Harry want to turn to a goo-ish mess and collapse on the floor. Liam notices– because as much as Harry will deny it later on, Liam’s a wonderful friend–and speaks up. “Oh! We were writing down some Christmas phrases to use when you came in. I think Niall took the sheet though, and he’s probably already lost it, so oh, well.”

Bless Liam and his ability to come up with reasonable excuses after years of hanging out with this group. Louis narrows his eyes, but doesn’t acknowledge the strangeness any further. Just when he thinks he’s going to get away with it, Harry remembers the present he has behind his back, and Louis does, too.

“Harry, what do you have behind your back?”

Harry refrains from looking over his shoulder at the object. “Behind my back,” Harry repeats, drawing each syllable out like a need for confirmation.

Louis nods. “Yes, that’s what I said.”

Out of his periphery, he can see Niall and Zayn sticking their heads out of the door to the room, probably to see the shit that’s about to go down because there’s no way any of them can keep this up any longer.

“Uh, it’s your…” he starts, and then something clicks in his head. “Your gift! Yeah, I’m your Secret Santa, sorry, but there’s… something wrong with the gift that I forgot to fix.” Not a complete lie.

Louis cocks his head to the side. “I’m sure it’s fine; we’re about to open them anyway, aren’t we?”

Harry’s pretty sure the other three have hid their faces in secondhand embarrassment. So much for being good friends.

“Yes,” Harry agrees but still doesn’t move.

“Really Haz, what’s going on?” He sounds irked, and Harry can’t do this because frustrated Louis’ the _worst,_ no matter how adorable it can be sometimes.

Louis’ gotten significantly closer now, and his eyes keep flicking towards Harry’s arms, and he knows he’s contemplating just snatching the present from him, because Harry knows literally _everything_ about Louis, so he takes a few steps back. That seems to make Louis even angrier, and oh, not good.

“I swear to God, Harry, if you don’t tell me what’s got you all freaked out I’ll–” The rest of his words are lost as Niall comes out from nowhere, steals the present from Harry who arm’s drop back down to his sides, and hands it to Louis, tag right in his face.

“ _Niall,_ ” Harry hisses. Niall’s his friend; friends don’t put other friends in bad situations.

Louis’ eyes widen and he gasps, taking the gift and closely observing his name written in the easily recognizable cursive.

“No, Harry,” Niall sighs, “we’re doing this, and we’re all going to stay right here and watch it happen because I can _guarantee_ you will like it.” Zayn’s come out of the room, too now, and Liam’s standing beside him and the three of them are all in a half circle around Louis and Harry.

“You don’t know that,” Harry starts to say, but is ignored as Louis starts talking.

“This is… this is the writing of that note person.” He lifts his gaze up to all of them. “Was he–she… _they_ here, then?” Harry never made it perfectly clear what his gender was in the notes, but hey, priorities first.

No one does anything for a moment, but then Niall’s nodding and Zayn and Liam are, too, and _God_ , Harry wants to punch them.

Louis looks at Harry like he’s considering something (and what does that _mean_?), before focusing on the present and unwrapping it. It seems like hours until he’s finally done and has the movie, CD, and card out, but in reality could have only been ten seconds.

Harry holds his breath while Louis surveys the karaoke CD and box set. Louis smiles and Harry’s just the tiniest bit relieved he likes them. He puts them under his arm while opening the card and time seems to stop for Harry.

Louis’ going to _know_ now and he wishes he could have some preparation for this. His friendship was nice while it lasted.

He chuckles while reading the front and inside of the card, but Harry knows he hasn’t got to the handwritten stuff yet. He does know when he sees how the air looks pressed out of Louis’ lungs that he’s finished reading, that he’s figured out Harry wasn’t lying when telling him that he was his Secret Santa.  

Harry’s fiddling with his hands, glancing anywhere except for his best mate in front of him.

There’s a long silence before Harry looks back up, and he sees Louis with the wrapping paper that somehow got dropped before back in his hand, his blue eyes flickering between the paper and Harry. Paper and Harry, paper and Harry, paper and Harry. He knows he’s more specifically staring at the tag.

The room is so, so silent, you could probably hear a pin drop.

Louis breaks it. “Haz,” he whispers and there’s now a lump in Harry’s throat, but he still doesn’t speak and looks down at his hands again.

But then there’s a crashing sound and all of Harry’s senses are filled with the smaller boy who’s practically _thrown_ himself at Harry with his arms around his neck and legs around his waist. Harry stumbles back a few steps, but instinctively grabs Louis’ thighs before he slips. He’s so very confused though that he almost doesn’t realize Louis’ whispering in his ear.

“Thank God,” he mumbles. “You… _you_ wrote those notes. I was so scared I was gonna have to reject someone that nice, because I _do_ notice you, Harry, and I love you so much, I really do.” And he sounds so fucking _ecstatic_ that Harry nearly drops him.

He gives up trying to make sense of the rest of his surroundings by then, Liam, Niall and Zayn be damned, because he’s got Louis in his arms and he just said he loves him in an obviously so much more than a platonic way, even Harry isn’t daft enough to believe it isn’t, and what more could he possibly want?

Harry grins, hiding his face in the crook of Louis’ neck, and he knows the guys can see this and one of them might be clapping right now, but he doesn’t care.

“I love you, too. Like a lot,” Harry says into Louis’ shoulder.

Louis laughs, the sweet sound spreading throughout his entire body, and he squirms a bit so Harry sets him down. That’s when Harry notices Louis dropped his gifts onto the floor when he came running at Harry, and he kind of hopes the CD’s aren’t broken, but that’s pushed to the back of his mind when he sees Louis’ smiling face staring up into his own, crinkles by his eyes and the blue in them so sparkling he’s not sure they could possibly be real, but they are, because he’s right here, and he’s looking at _Harry_ like that and maybe Zayn had a point and they might be even on the scoreboard now.

Harry beams just as bright back at him and Louis grabs his face between his hands. Louis has to angle his head up just a little bit to look at Harry, but even then he doesn’t hesitate to continue being the one in control of the situation.

He glances up then, at the ceiling, and his smile gets even wider, which wasn’t a very easy feat. Harry follows his gaze up and sees the small green plant with a few red berries attached he had originally put up as a joke. It was hung up around the middle of the bakery, and Harry guesses with all the commotion in the last fifteen minutes, they had moved from the corner table to the center.

“Mistletoe,” Louis murmurs when their eyes are both back in front of each other, so close his breath fans out across Harry’s face.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees in as soft as a voice as he can get.

Louis winks, and that boy is going to be the death of Harry he swears, and leans in closer and closer until he’s kissing him, lips sliding over Harry’s, slow and sweet.

And this is really happening, isn't it? He’s finally getting what he wants after _years_ and it feels like he’s on top of goddamn Cloud Nine.

Harry presses back and he hears catcalling around him but all that doesn't matter and just focuses on the heat and pleasure and tenderness and want around him. Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ waist and it’s so unbelievably _nice,_ and easily the best kiss he’s ever had, not that he’s had much, but if Harry was the judge, Louis would win everything.

Harry’s the first to break away, because he doesn't want to get too lost with a first kiss, with other people around and other things they should probably get back to doing soon, and Louis complies. His arms had found their way around Harry’s neck and he’s sure they seem like complete idiots; dopey smiles, flushed faces, and red lips.

Their soon pulled into a group hug with their other three friends and there’s yelling and laughing and joyous chants of _‘Louis and Harry!’_ and just lots of love.

The two are still wrapped around each other during the celebration, and Louis pecks Harry’s lips before nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

“Best Christmas–slash–birthday ever,” Louis says and Harry holds him tighter.

(The world lets out a few sighs of relief.)

**◊◊◊◊**

**_fin_ **

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first serious story I’ve ever finished and I’m so incredibly happy right now you wouldn’t understand.
> 
> I hope you guys liked this as much as I did, and for now this is being referred to as my baby.
> 
> A majority of this was written in my math and science classes so if you ever want to know what was going through my head at the time of writing there you go <333
> 
> Um, I don’t actually know when soccer (football) seasons are, so that’s probably not very accurate.
> 
> Follow me on Twitter: @millounaires
> 
> Follow me/read on Tumblr: larryarrow
> 
> So now I will go back to working on some more chaptered AU’s! Merry Christmas and a happy New Year! (ho ho ho)


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